


Frosting

by omphale23



Category: Men With Guns (1997 Skogland)
Genre: Community: ds_snippets, Gen, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-08 00:10:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omphale23/pseuds/omphale23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mamet had another name, a long time ago in a different place. He barely remembered it, couldn't imagine anyone calling him by it these days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frosting

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to **greenonme** for taking my commas to task and trying to fix my character issues. I'm not sure she agrees with the result, but she gave it her best effort and can't be blamed for my stubbornness. *g*

Mamet had another name, a long time ago in a different place. He barely remembered it, couldn't imagine anyone calling him by it these days.

But he'd had it, and once he had an apartment with his mum in it, his own room, a bike. He had a cake for his sixth birthday with green frosting and candles and his name written on it in white letters.

Names didn't really mean anything. Mamet kept one and the other faded off, buried under six years of moving around and running away and nights where the doorknob rattled and he curled in a ball, tight, so tight against the wall under the covers, eyes squeezed shut and his heart beating faster and faster until he thought he might float off.

He always stayed firmly on the bed. The pillow over his head didn't help, and locking the door made things worse, and when he turned fifteen he ran and couldn't look back. He called himself Mamet, and bought a heavy wool coat and a knife, and learned to look bigger than he was, scary and crazy.

Sometimes it worked. Sometimes he had to use the knife, hissing a warning and flicking his eyes back and forth for a weak spot, a way out. Those were the nights he spent scrubbing his hands in a diner washroom, not crying and not throwing up after the first time.

He couldn't get clean and it was good that he was someone else, someone his mum wouldn't recognize. Good that he didn't have anyone looking for him.

When he turned seventeen, Mamet bought himself a candle and a dime bag and a cupcake with green icing he didn't eat.


End file.
